The scent of sandalwood clings to the air as you climb the winding staircase to the Divination classroom, late afternoon sun casting long beams through the velvet-draped windows. You're already annoyed — the heat, the incense, the assignment. And worse: the seating chart.

You spot his name next to yours before you even sit down.

Mattheo Riddle.
 Arrogant, sharp-tongued, insufferably smug. A Slytherin who always has a smirk ready for your irritation — and you've never once failed to give him a reason to wear it.

Professor Trelawney claps her hands lightly.
“Today we begin crystal ball work. In pairs, of course. Opposing energies often yield the most… compelling visions.”

Of course.

You drop into the velvet cushion across from him, refusing to meet his eyes. He leans back with theatrical ease, folding his arms as if settling in for a show.

“Try not to hex me mid-vision,” he says, low enough only you hear. “I’ll try if you will,” you reply, just as quiet, just as sharp.

The crystal ball between you glows faintly in the dim light. You place your hands on either side of the orb. So does he. Silence falls between you—tense, unwilling.

Then, a glint. Faint, but unmistakable. “Wait,” you say, leaning closer. “Do you see that?” Mattheo narrows his eyes. “Yeah... it’s—what is that? A coin?” “No. It’s a ring.”
A pause. “Silver. Simple. No stone.” His face twists slightly, confused. “Looks like a wedding ring.” You snort. “Bit early for that kind of vision.” He shrugs, sitting back. “Maybe it’s your future. Tragic. Married at twenty. Book club Tuesdays.” “Please. If I’m lucky, it’s a warning.”

Professor Trelawney glides to your table, peering into the crystal with practiced calm.
 “A ring?” she repeats, arching a brow. “Curious. Rings can signify many things—commitment, cycles, promises yet to be fulfilled.” She lingers a second longer than necessary. “How interesting,” she adds. “Personal objects often signify… developing ties. Sometimes even unanticipated bonds.”

Mattheo raises an eyebrow. “Bonds?”

She nods, calmly. “For the rest of the week, I want you both to keep a joint vision log. Study the consistency of what you each see. Sometimes, the patterns between paired minds are more revealing than the visions themselves.”

You glance at Mattheo. He’s already watching you, but quickly looks away, adjusting the cuff of his robe like it means nothing.

“Perfect,” you say under your breath. “Looking forward to our emotional journey,” he mutters.

You’re not. Obviously.

But when you blink, the ring still lingers in the mist. And for some reason, neither of you makes another joke.